Mega Origins
by bandgeek18
Summary: Who were megaforce before they became rangers? Watch through one-shots as they grow facing horrors; love; betrayal; friendship; grief; and happiness.
1. Troy

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer. I own nothing

_*Italic indicates thought_

Chapter One: Troy

"The past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can run from it, or learn from it." -Rafiki; The Lion King

A/N: hey! So this is the first story. Each chapter will be a one-shot on each ranger's history. I might do this for other teams in the future as well. Please review and let me show what you think! Thanks!

**Newborn**  
John Smith smiled as he watched his wife holding their newborn son. After a long, 12 hours to be exact, and emotionally exhausting labor they had welcomed the newest member of their family into the world. His wife, Angela, cradled their son in her arms, gently rocking him back and forth. His three-year-old sat on his knee, sucking his thumb and watching his new brother. "Dad," he said looking up at his father.

"Yes?"

"Is he my new brother?"

"Yes, he is."

"Is he sleepin?"

"Why don't you ask mom?"

"Momma, is the baby sleepin?"

Angela smiled and looked down. Her baby opened his eyes and looked up at her, yawning. "I think so." John picked up his son and set him gently on the bed next to his mother.

"Can I hold him?"

"No dear," Angela said. "You're a little too young. You can talk to him though."

Micheal looked at his younger brother. "Hi little brother. I'm your big brother Micheal. Momma, what's the baby's name?"

"Well," Angela said. "We were thinking about naming him after Grandpa Troy."

"Troy? I like it."

Angela smiled and kissed her son on the forehead. "Welcome to our family, baby Troy."

**Age 3**  
Tory watched from the porch as his brother played with a model plane in the backyard. He got up and ran over to him. "Micheal, can I play?"

"No!" Micheal said. "You're too little. Go play out front."

"But-"

"Go away!"

Troy pouted and left the backyard. He went into the garage and grabbed his scooter. He started riding it up and down their street. He wasn't allowed to leave the short road, or the sidewalk. He smiled, and pushed faster, and faster. He stopped suddenly when a couple of boys around Micheal's age suddenly turned the corner. "Sorry. And hi."

"Hey kid," one of them said. "That's a nice scooter."

"Thanks. My dad got it for me." The boy smiled and pushed Troy off. "Hey!"

"What're you gonna do about it?" the boy asked. "You're too small to do anything about it."

"Micheal!" Troy cried. "Help!"

Micheal heard his younger bother crying, and sighed. "Baby brothers," he muttered. He went to see what was got in on. As soon as he saw Troy in the ground and another boy hosting his scooter he knew something was definitely wrong. "Hey!"

"Micheal, he pushed me and took my scooter!"

Micheal got mad and tackled the other boy. He punched him in the face a couple of times before letting him up. "Leave my brother alone!"

The boy ran off down the street, back the way he'd come. Tory smiled and jumped to his feet. "Thank you, Micheal," he said hugging his older brother. "You helped me, even if I'm too small."

Micheal frowned, feeling guilty. "Just because you're small doesn't mean you're not my little brother."

"Thank you anyways."

"I'll protect you," Micheal promised.

"Really?"

"Always."

**Age 6**  
Troy smiled as his dad cut his birthday cake.

"Micheal!" his mom called. "Hurry up!"

"Coming!" Micheal shouted, running down the hall. He stopped I front of Tory and handed him a small box. "Happy Birthday."

Troy grinned as he opened it. "Wow," he said taking out a red hemp bracelet. "Cool. Thanks, Micheal."

"I made it so that you can always remember me," Micheal said; tying it around his younger brother's wrist.

Troy grinned. "I could never forget about you."

**Age 8**  
John smiled as he watched Troy hang his martial arts medal on the wall. He was so proud of his son.

"Dad, am I going to be really good at fighting lie you and Micheal?" Troy asked.

John sighed and sat down so he was at his son's level. "Troy, first, martial arts isn't about fighting. It's about discipline, and protecting others. Second, if you work hard, and really like it, you will be very good. Maybe even better than me or Micheal."

"I hope so!" Tory said excitedly.

John smiled and pulled his son into a hug. He picked him up and threw him on his bed, a little gently, and he tickled him mercilessly. Troy laughed and kicked his feet; squealing in happiness.

"Dad! Dads stop!"

"Stop?" he asked teasingly. "Stop?!"

"Yes!" Tory laughed. "Dad!"

"Ok," he said stopping. He knelt by his son's bed.

Tory was out of breath and smiling. "I love you Dad."

"I love you too son."

**Age 11**  
Tory laughed as his dad put an arm around his shoulders. "My amazing boys," John said, wrapping his other arm around Micheal.

"You boys did so well," Angela said.

"I say we celebrate with ice cream," John said.

"Dad, we're still in training," Micheal said. "We want to be ready for the state tournaments. Right, Troy?"

"Yeah," Troy said, ready to go along with anything his brother said.

"Are you sure?" John asked. "I think you'd like a triple-chocolate-whip-sundae from Frotsy's."

Micheal bit his lip. "Um...one ice cream won't hurt."

His parents laughed. "You got that right," John said. The family of four walked down the sidewalk; streetlights lighting their way. Troy never worried when he walked the streets at night. He knew just a bit more than just a little self-defense; as did his brother and both his parents. He walked proudly and care-free, swinging the arm that held his dad's hand.

As they passed a shady doorway, something grabbed his arm and ripped him away from his dad. He gasped. "Dad!" Before he could attempt to get away some one out an arm around his neck. He became paralyzed by fear as he felt the barrel of a gun pressing against his temple. He saw the terrified look on Micheal's face. His parents looked scared, but in control. "Give me all your money," the man holding him said. "Now!" He cocked the hammer. Tory's breath hitched.

"Ok, ok," John said. Slowly, he reached into his picket and took out his wallet. Angela did the same, gaining it to her husband. "See? It's all we have."

"Your watch too!"

"Ok." John undid the clasp on his watch and set it down half way between them and the man. The man jumped a little and pressed the gun harder into Troy's temple. The young boy yelped. Micheal squeezed his mother's hand. "We gave you what you want. Now please let him go."

The thief was breathing heavily. Before anyone could do anything, Troy decided to y and escape. He jerked and kicked at the man.

"Troy no!" John shouted. Too late.

Shots rang out, and Troy dove to the ground. He hid behind a box, hoping to remain unseen. He heard the thief runaway down the street. It remained deserted for a few seconds, and Troy came out. He gasped when he saw his parents and brother. All three of them were lying in a pool of blood that was growing by the second. Troy called forward and almost fell into the blood in his haste.

His dad was staring up at the sky with glassy eyes; a bullet wound in his chest. His mom was draped over his dad, a bullet wound in her back. He had a rising feeling of vomit in his stomach. He looked at his brother, and was relieved when he fish he was still breathing. "Micheal," he whispered, his voicing echoing in his ears.

Micheal moaned. His eyes fluttered open. Troy saw he had a bullet wound in his stomach. Blood spattered his white gi; soiling both the boys' uniforms. "T-Troy..." he whispered tiredly. "Troy, hide."

"But, you need help."

"Hide in case he comes back."

"I'm so sorry Micheal."

"It's ok. It's not your fault."

"I wish I could've protected you."

"You couldn't control it." Micheal coughed as blood started to come out of his mouth. "I...love you little brother."

"Micheal I-"

"Hide."

Tory nodded and his himself in the shadows behind a large box. Tears dripped down his face. He felt as of they took his life; like the blood pooling from his family.

**Age 14**  
"Where you going?" someone asked Troy after class.

"To practice my martial arts," Troy answered.

"Why?" his classmate scoffed. "You always do that. Why don't you do show thing fun?"

"I find it fun."

"I mean something with other people."

"Because...I just have too."

"Whatever," the boy said rolling his eyes. "Have fun by yourself, loser."

Troy turned away and walked off down the hall. He ignored the aad feeling inside of him. It was hard for him to make friends because he spent most of his time training. He made his way to the community youth center where there was an open gym ns dojo. He threw his bag in the corner and changed in the lockers. He started doing his warm-ups, trying to state focused. The past three years had been hell. He had just been moved to his third foster home. He didn't want to be there.

No one, not the numerous counselors and therapists he'd been forced to talk to; his classmates at various schools; teachers; or even foster families understood his situation. They didn't understand his obsessive need to practice martial arts. They didn't understand why he didn't like to walk at night, or why he jumped at every bang.

_"It's stupid being scared of fireworks," Thomas, Troy's foster bother said. "Don't be a baby."_

_"Maybe if you focused less on being antisocial and more on making friends, you'd fit in better."_

_"Try talking about that night. After all if was three years ago. You should be able to talk about it."_

Troy hit the punching bag he'd moved to with every thought. _I'll never talk about it, _he thought. _Never. No one will are. They'll just blame me for what happened. They'll say I got my family killed._ He touched the hemp bracelet on his wrist briefly. He punched and kicked the bag even harder, trying to force the years away.

**Age 17**  
Troy played with his fingers nervously as he sat in the front seat of the car. His social worker, Kyla, was taking him to his adopted family. "You're very lucky to be adopted when you're almost an adult," she said.

"I know," Tory said.

"Don't look so scared. They soared through the back round checks with flying colors. They'll love you. We paired them up with you especially."

Tory nodded. He swallowed as they pulled up to a house. He got out and grabbed his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He followed Kyla up the steps of the house. It was pretty much a cookie-cutter house in your average cookie-cutter-neighborhood. Kyle knocked on the door. It opened a second later. Tory peered over her shoulder and saw a girl who appeared to be no older than seven. She smiled at them. "Hi!"

A man came up behind her. "Hi, Kyla. Good to see you again. Come on in." He held the door open as Kyla and Troy walked in. "And you must be Troy. Nice to meet you. I'm Clyde Burrows." Zach shook his hand hesitantly. He noticed the girl was snooping around his bag. "Shirley!"

A woman came down the stairs, smiling. "About time. You must be Troy." She walked over and hugged him, much to his dismay. "Sorry, I'm an affectionate I making you uncomfortable?" Troy nodded a little. "Sorry. I'm Shirley Burrows by the way."

"I'm Suzie!" the little girl said bounding up and down.

She stood in front of Clyde and he put his arms around her. "Yes, she's a very energetic person as well."

"Do you like video games?"

"I...I've never played any," Troy said slowly.

"I can show you! It's lots of fun!"

Shirley smiled. "Suzie dear, why don't you show Troy to his room?"

"Ok!" Troy grabbed his bag and Suzie grabbed his hand. "Come on! I'll show you the way!" Troy smiled a little as she led him up then stairs. They walked down the hall and she pushed a door open. "This is your room," she said. "Mom and Dad got it ready just for you. I helped too!"  
Troy smiled and set his bag on the bed. It had a red bed spread and pillows. There was a dresser, as well as shelves, toe red bean bag chairs, and a tv on a stand. It had two windows that looked over the street with nice blinds and red curtains.

"Whats that?" Suzie asked, pointing to his wrist.

"It's a bracelet," he said showing it to her. "it reminds me of someone very special who went away a long time ago."

"Oh," she said. "Ok."

Troy nodded and went to look at his dresser. About twenty minutes later, as he was examining his closet, someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned around and saw that Suzie had slipped out without him noticing, but Kyla was there. "Lots of red."

"Yeah," Troy nodded.

"I should be getting back," she said. "Don't blow this Troy. You won't get any better than this."

"They can't get rid of me now that they've adopted me, can they?"

"You never know," Kyla smiled. "Have fun."

"Bye Kyla. Thanks for everything."

"You're welcome."

She left and Tory sat down on his bed. Clyde came in a couple of minutes later. "Hope this isn't too much red."

"No, it's great."

"Kyla had told us it was your favorite color, so we used that to design your room.

"It's great thanks."

"She told us you like material arts too. I heard you had lost of awards, so I thought we'd hang them up somewhere."

"Thanks."

"The rest of your things are downstairs."

"Great."

"I'll help you being them up."

"Thanks Clyde."

"No problem. And hey," he put his hand in Troy's shoulder. "Welcome to the family."

**A couple of days later**  
Troy tossed and turned in his bed. He screamed in fear. "Mom! Dad! Micheal!"

Clyde turned the light on and Shirley came to his bed. "Troy," she said gently, rubbing his back. "Troy, wake up dear. It's ok. It's just a dream." Troy awake suddenly, breathing heavily.

"It's ok," Clyde said. "It was just a bad dream."

"Sorry," Troy said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's ok," Shirley said smiling. "You can't help having nightmares."

Tory nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for coming to check on me."

"It's fine," Clyde said. "That's what we're here for."

"You going to be ok?" Shirley asked.

"Yeah," Troy lied. "I'll be ok. Sorry again. I know this is the third time it's happened."

"It's fine dear. Are you sure you'll be ok?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Ok, good night."

"Night Troy," Clyde said. They left and Troy rubbed his neck. Ha door wow owns again. He looked and saw Suzie in her nightgown. "Hey."

"Troy, are you ok?"

"Yeah," he said as she sat crossed-legged on his bed. "I just had a bad dream. Did I wake you up?" She nodded. "Sorry."

"It's ok. What was you dream about?"

"Something bad that happened to me a long time ago."

"Oh. Are you ok now?"

"Not really," he said.

"Oh. What here." She hopped off the bad and ran out of the room. Troy smiled as he waited patiently for her. She came back and turns ships light off. She put something on his beside table and pushed a button. A circle of stars and planets lit up on the ceiling. She crawled into the bed with him. Is that better?"

"Yes," he said. "It's a little better."

"Here," she handed him a small charm. It was made of plastic and had a sloppy rainbow painted on it. "I made this for you. To protect you and help you."

"Thank you, Suzie," Tory said closing his hand around it. "I love it."

She grinned. "It'll be ok Troy," Suzie said as he pulled the blankets over the two of them. "Mommy and Daddy say that you've seen a bad thing. But you're really nice. That means the bad thing will go away."

"Think so?"

"Uh huh. Just like the super heroes in my story books. The prince always feet as the veil queen. Good guys alway win."

Tory smiled. It was this child innocence that he'd been missing for a while. It had been years since he'd thought that good would triumph over evil. Soon Suzie fell asleep next to him. He looked at the charm in the dim light. He felt a strange happiness coming over him. He moved on from his tragedy, yes. But there was a difference between moving on and living on. He hadn't been able to heal completely, because he hasn't felt understood or loved. But now was different.

Clyde and Shirley didn't get made when he had nightmares that woke them up in the middle of the night. They repeated his space, and the fact he didn't want to talk about the past. They'd welcomed him into their home and given him unconditional love. He looked down at Suzie who had already thought him how to play her favorite video game. He looked at the charm, and immediately thought of all the good things this family was bringing him. He set it down on his bedstead and tuned over, falling asleep.

The next day he tied it down to his bracelet. He wore it everywhere, so he would be reminded of that newfound peace and innocence. He even wore it two weeks after he'd been adopted and attended his first day of school at Harwood County High School. He was wearing it when he found himself having, for once, a new dream on the bus. He was wearing it when he was given the opportunity to do good and redeem himself in his own eyes. He'd been told by many people, by Clyde and Shirley even, that it hand then his fault. And some part of him knew and accepted that.

The criminal had been responsible for killing Troy's family; even if he'd never been caught. But he still felt that nagging, and guilty feeling. But when he was training in the woods, haunting with his friends, or playing with Suzie, he felt like he was with his bother again. And when he fought in battle, trying to save the world, he felt close to his family. They'd been a family fighters, and experts in self-defense. On helping others and protecting people. And that was what he was going to do.

As the months and war wore on, Troy got better. The nightmare became less frequent, and he started talking to Clyde about the past. The farther along her got, he realized he would be ok. He had a new family that loved him and looked faster him; and he had a great group of for ends that did the same thing. After feeling so lost and alone for years, it was the best thing he could've ever asked for.


	2. Emma

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer. I own nothing

_*Italic indicates thought_

Chapter Two: Emma

"The past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can run from it, or learn from it." -Rafiki; The Lion King

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. Thanks for all the reviews and follows. I was a little unsure about this story. Please keep it up! Thanks! And Happy Thanksgiving!

**Age 2**  
Jane Goodall laughed as she watched her daughter run around the living room. "Emma dear," she said. "Be careful."

"Mama!" Emma laughed. "Mama!"

"Emma, let me finish watching these dishes," her mother said. "Joel, can you play with Emma until I'm done? Joel!" She turned the water off and dried her hands. "Joel!" She stopped when she saw her husband standing in the living room. He looked at her seriously. "I'm leaving, Jane."

"What? Why?"

"I'm sorry. You haven't been looking good lately. We both knew what that means,"

"Joel," Jane said walking over; putting her hands on his chest. "I'm got in to be fine. Just like-"

"Like the last time? Or the time after that? Jane this will never be over. I'm sorry, but I can't stand here and watch the woman I love die like this."

"What about Emma?"

He looked at his daughter who stopped running around at this point and was watching her parents. "I'm not taking her with me."

"So, you're just going to leave us?"

"I'm sorry." He hugged her and have her one last kiss on the cheek. He walked towards the door were his bags were waiting.

"Dada!" Emma yelled running after him. "Dada, pway?"

"No Emma," he said coming down to her level. "Dada loves you, ok?" He gave her a kiss on the forehead, and took one last heartbreaking look at her beautiful dark eyes.

Jane came over and picked her daughter up and retreated with her. Joel shook his head sadly as he grabbed his coat and bags. He shut the door behind him, leaving his daughter and wife in his past. Jane felt tears drip down her face one by one. She wiped them away. Emma put her hand on her mother's cheek. "Mama, where dada go?"

"Dada's going away. On a trip."

"I wanna pway wif him."

"I know you do, baby. How about we play with your ponies?"

Emma laughed and nodded. "Yea! Yea!"

**Age 5**

Emma sat on the swings, not wanting to play with anyone. Not that she had any friends to play with anyways.

"Get off!" a girl shouted, pushing her off the swing.

Emma fell into he wooden pellets. She stood up and brushed her hands and knees off. "Give me back that swing, Brittney. I was there first!"

"Too bad."

Emma walked away sulkily. She sat down by the fence, in the flowers. She smiled and brushed her hands gently over the white pedals. She jerked her hand back when a ball landed in front of her, crushing the flowers. She iced the ball up and stood up. Another girl from her class came running up. "That's my ball!"

"Here!" Emma threw it to her.

The girl caught it. She stuck her tongue out at Emma before going back to her game. She shook her head and sat down with the flowers again.

Emma watched as girl named Gia pushed Brittney off what had been Emma's swing. Brittney tried to push Gia off, but it didn't work. Gia kicked Brittney in the face as she swung forward. Brittney ran off to get the teacher. Emma frowned. She didn't approve of Gia kicking her, but Brittney was a bully. She ran to the swings just as Britney came back other the teacher.

"She kicked me!"

"I did not!"

"Ok, children," their teacher said. "What happened?"

"Britney pushed me off the swing," Emma said quickly. Everyone looked at her. "Gia came over and made Britney get off. I let her go on since she was nice, and Britney got in the way."

"Is that true?"

Gia nodded. "Yup."

"Is not! She's lying!"

"Britney, Emma has never lied to a teacher. You, however, have. Lets go take you to the principal."

Britney looked back at them. "I'll get you for this."

Gia stuck her tongue out at her. She looked back at Emma and smiled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I'm Gia Moran."

"Emma Goodall."

"Nice to meet you Emma. You wanna push me, then I'll push you?"

"Sure."

**Age 7**

Emma smiled pleasantly, and happily, as she held her mother's hand. Her mom had been so tired lately, Emma was happy to have some time with her. They found a clearing full of flowers, birds, small animals, and grass. Emma's mom spread the blanket out on the ground. "This place is beautiful, isn't it, sweetie?"

"Yeah," Emma said. "Mom, what's wrong?"

"I have something I want to talk to you about sweetie," she said. Jane took a deep breath. "You know that I went to the doctor yesterday."

Emma nodded. "Are you sick?"

"Yes. Emma baby," she took her daughter's hand. Emma looked her in the eyes. "My doctor told me that the treatments didn't work."

"They-they didn't?"

"No baby."

"So, are you going to have a different treatment?"

"No. My leukemia has spread to far. I'm afraid there's nothing the doctor can do."

Emma felt her eyes water up. "No! There has to be something else mom."

"I wish there was baby," she said, brushing her fingers through Emma's hair. "I wish there was."

"I don't want you to die," Emma sobbed.

Her mother pulled her into an embrace. "Me nether baby. Me nether."

**Later that night**

Emma sat in her bed in her room. She was still crying quietly, holding a pink bunny her mom had given her when she was small. So own knocked on her door. "Come in."

Jane came in smiling. "Hey, sweetie."

"Hey."

Her mom sat down on her bed. "This drawing is pretty," she said.

Emma smiled a little. "Thanks. It's one of my dreams. My naive dreams." She got up, tearing the paper in half as she did.

"Emma," her mom said getting. "Your dreams aren't naive." She picked up the torn pieces.

"They are. It was silly to think that you would be cured. That you'd be ok."

"No baby," she said. She hugged her daughter; the two of them lowering to the ground. "It wasn't silly. Look at me." Emma lifted her face so she could look her mother in the eyes. "I never want you to give up on a dream. No matter how big, small, impractical, or serious. Because your dreams are what helped us all these years. I want you to remember a believe in every dream you can think of. In fact, I want you to make a list of your dreams. I want you to make almost, so you can make every one of them come true. Ok?"

"Ok," Emma said resting her head against her mother's chest.

"Promise?" Jane kissed her on the top of the head.

Emma closed her eyes; letting the sound of her mother's fragile heart clam her. "Promise."

**Age 8**  
The numb feeling that filled Emma as her grandmother put an arm around her was suffocating. Emma thought that she'd die with the emptiness filling her. She wished that there was something she could do to get rid of it. "Gran," she said looking at her grandmother. "I can't do this."

"Ok, angel. Why don't you go ou back for a little while?"

Emma nodded and left the reception in the living room. She sat on the back steps of the porch. She took a tissue out of the pocket of her black dress and pressed it against her eyes. The door opened behind her and someone sat next to her.

"Hey," Gia said quietly.

"Hey," Emma said.

"Nice reception."

"I guess."

"Em," Gia said taking her hand. "I can't imagine what you must be going through. Your mom was an amazing person. She was just like you. Sweet; kind; tree-hugger." Emma laughed. "She was like a second mother to me. And after how dysfunctional mine is, it was nice to be treated like a child."

"I thought you hated being treated like a kid."

"I do. But it's nice sometimes."

Emma nodded, starting to cry again. "I just miss her so much."

"I know," Gia said. She wrapped an arm around Emma and pulled her close. Emma put her head on her best friend's shoulder. "It'll be ok."

"I hope so."

"It will. I'll be here for you. So will your Gran."

Emma smiled a little. Gia wasn't someone who was good with her emotions; but this was something Emma knew she'd done for her. She frowned when she saw the bruises on Gia's wrist peeking out from under her black sleeve. "Thanks G."

"Any time Em."

**Age 11**  
"Come on Gia, you should do it!"

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm not pretty like you."

"That as not true," Emma protested. "Every girl is beautiful. Like Cinderella."

Gia rolled her eyes. "That as certainly what my life feels like most days."

"Then this will be fun! Please, Gia?"

Gia sighed. She looked at the yellow dress Emma was holding. "I don't even like dresses."

"I know, but its only be once."

"And if I say yes it'll be more than once."

"Please?!"

Gia looked at the picture tapped to Emma's vanity mirror. It was of her and her mother a couple of months before she died. Emma and her mother had usually gone to the Harwood County Beauty Pageant together; but this year, with Emma's grandmother her guardian, Emma would have to go alone. Unless Gia greed to go with her. She looked at the lost tacked to Emma's wall. She knew winning the beauty pageant for her mom was on that list. If they did it together they would have a good chance.

She looked again at the dress Emma was holding. It was a wonderful shade of yellow that Gia knew she could pull off. But it was sleeveless, and she tried to avoid things like that. It would even show her shoulders. She thought about the purple-blue-yellow bruises on her shoulders and back. "I'll do it," she standing.

"Really?!"

"Yes." _Nothing cover-up can't fix,_ she thought at the smile on Emma's face.

Emma hugged her. "Yay! This is going to be so much fun! You wait and see!"

**Age 14**  
"Emma," Gran said walking up to her. "Aren't you going to the dance?"

"Not really," she admitted.

"I thought you liked dances."

"I do, but its a Mother's Day dance."

"I see." Her grandmother sat next to her on the steps. "And you don't have a mom to go with?"

"Exactly." A few tears slipped down her cheek. "Mom and I went every year. Now I can't go anymore."

"Sweetie," she said. "Come on. I have a wonderful idea."

An hour later Emma foun herself in the clearing with trees just starting to blossom. "I hate it here."

"Hate it? Emma-bean, this was your favorite place when you were little."

"This is where...where she told me."

"Ah I see." Her grandmother looked up. "The trees are starting to blossom."

Emma glanced up. "I guess."

Her grandmother smiled and started to braid her hair. "La, la, la, la, la, la," she began to sing softly; her fingers weaving Emma's dark hair. "The gentle breeze; stirs the leaves and stirs my soul; my heart deep inside me; sense my worth as one with Earth; as greater whole, all connected as one." She squeezed Emma's shoulders affectionately.

Emma smiled the first real smile she'd concocted in days.

"So bloom, bloom, and share your sweet perfume. Flowers bloom, bloom. La, la, la, la, la, la."

"La, la, la la, la, la, la."

Her grandmother smiled. "La, la, la, la, la, la."

"Flowers bloom, bloom; and share your sweet perfume. Flowers bloom, bloom, la, la, la, la, la, la, la." Emma sang gladly; her voice drifting on the wind and carrying through the empty forest around them.

"The gentle breeze; stirs the leaves and stirs my soul; my heart deep inside me; sense my worth with one as earth; as greater whole, all connect as one." Emma and her grandmother sang together, their voice melding together. Emma had never thought she'd be doing this again. Her mother, grandmother, and herself would always come and song on Mother's Day.

The tradition seemed silly, not having her mom there to enjoy it with them. But now, she saw it wasn't. All the things she used to enjoy with her mother: the songs, dancing, nature, dreaming, watching the clouds and stars…they were all still there. She thought of her list of dreams hanging on her wall. That seemed silly, but it wasn't. There was nothing wrong with seeing the beauty in things. On singing a song to the trees. And in that song, in that moment, Emma found she was dreaming of fulfilling her mom's greatest dream of protecting the world.

And it was this dream that she made her own vendetta. It was this dream that made her happy to accept her role as the pink ranger with pride. She sang her family's song of love, and spring time to defeat a monster. She only sang for her grandmother normally. She wanted to protect the world; and everyone in it. So others wouldn't have to know the pain of losing someone you loved. She would always love her mom. She would always remember her; and she would never forget to dream. Both big and small.


End file.
